The Ledger of Deportation

Germany’s Shame in Bamberg, Bavaria, and Beyond Bamberg’s Ankerzentrum: A City Within the City 

Anker-zentren they call them reception centres. We, who have lived inside, call them human  zoos. They present them as houses of asylum. For us, they stand as modern slave houses:  places where life is reduced to files, numbers, and transactions. They resemble warehouses,  but instead of goods, they contain human beings, moved day in and day out, distributed  from one municipality to another like objects on a conveyor belt. These are cities with one  way in-entered with fragile dreams and one way out, often marked by trauma, depression, or  deportation. 

The word “Anker” is not accidental. In German, it stands for Ankunft, kommunale Verteilung,  Entscheidung, Rückführung (arrival, municipal distribution, decision, and return). The entire  asylum process is compressed into this single acronym. The intention, at least officially, was  to accelerate procedures, centralize bureaucracy, and control migration flows. 

Ankerzentren were formally established in 2018, building on earlier “arrival centers” created  after 2015 during the so-called refugee crisis. Bavaria led the way, setting up seven main  centers in Bamberg, Deggendorf, Donauwörth, Manching/Ingolstadt, Regensburg,  Schweinfurt, and Zirndorf each surrounded by multiple branches. Other states such as  Saxony and Saarland adopted the model, and by 2021 Germany counted nine AnkER or  equivalent facilities, with dozens of dependences spread across the country. 

The official narrative is efficiency: faster decisions, fewer delays, all services under one roof.  But the lived reality is different. For refugees, Ankerzentren mean long months in limbo,  stuck in mass accommodation, cut off from society, and constantly under surveillance.  Families live crowded together; privacy is scarce; psychological stress is constant. Instead of  integration, isolation grows. Instead of safety, vulnerability deepens. For women, children,  and trauma survivors, these centers can be especially dangerous. Reports describe violence,  lack of medical and psychological care, and accelerated deportation processes that strip  away the right to fair hearing. 

Ankerzentren stand as symbols of a system that manages people as cases, not as human  beings. They were established to “organize” migration, but for those inside, they embody  exclusion. What is framed as order by the state is lived as captivity by refugees. 

Among all Ankerzentren, Bamberg’s has become one of the most well-known and  controversial. Established in 2015 as an arrival camp and converted into a full AnkER facility  in 2018, it was once the largest in Bavaria, housing more than 1,400 refugees at its peak.  Though numbers have since decreased, the camp remains a central site in the state’s asylum  policy. 

From the outside, it appears orderly: guarded gates, controlled entrances, administrative  offices, dormitories, a cafeteria. But from the inside, it feels like another world. Refugees  describe it as a city within the city, surrounded by walls, watched by security, with strict rules 

controlling daily life. For many, Bamberg is not remembered as a place of protection but as a  place of waiting without end. 

Testimonies echo the same themes: 

• Isolation: “We are kept apart from society. People pass by the gates, but we never meet. We  live here, but we are not part of Bamberg.” 

Prolonged uncertainty and detention-like conditions 

• Refugees often wait extended periods under “residence obligations” (Bleibepflicht), unable to  freely move beyond the facility or region. In practice, these facilities can resemble closed or  semi-closed camps, with restrictions on entering and leaving, stringent check-ins, and limited  freedom.  
• Psychological Strain: “Every day is the same. You wake up, you wait, you eat, you sleep. After  months, you begin to lose yourself. Depression grows like a shadow.” 
• Uncertainty: “No one tells you how long you will stay. Some are here for weeks, others for  years. Time becomes a punishment.” Fear of Deportation“Every knock on the door could  mean the end. You sleep, but never in peace.” 
• Risk of discrimination and marginalization: The model can reinforce stigmas: being housed in  an “Anker” compound marks refugees as separate, outside normal societal spaces.  
• Limited access to education, mental health support, meaningful work, or legal counsel is  often the reality.  
• Accelerated returns and lesser procedural protection: The central purpose of decision and  return being on site places immense pressure on those seeking protection; faster rejections  and deportation processes are more likely. For people from states considered “safe” or with  low recognition rates, the model can lead to shorter review times and less room for appeal